atomic_fungus (atomic_fungus) wrote,

#4150: It's official: the song is now R-S-P-E-C-T.

Because Obama. From this point on the song must be sung thus:
Find out what it means to me
Dan Quayle misspells "potato" and he's a blithering idiot. Obama misspells the primary word of Aretha Franklin's signature song while honoring her, but that's okay because it was a joke or something and the White House press pool is saying that he spelled it correctly so obviously you are on drugs or crazy, or quite possibly both, and Obama was just checking to make sure we're paying attention.

Nah, there's no liberal bias in the media. That's just the fevered imaginings of right-wingers who need to loosen up, do a little grass, and get laid or something.

* * *

Speaking of the adults in the room Matt Walsh has some good advice on how our society ought to deal with the fact that children cry in public places. I think his compromise is reasonable.

I don't glare at beleagured parents who bring their fussing brats to the store because it's a fact of life that the supermarket is not the place to expect tranquility. You can't handle it, don't go out, because you will encounter people with fussing children from time to time.

(This does not necessarily excuse people who are keeping their kids up until 11 PM unless they simply have no other option. I try not to judge, but if you're keeping small children awake that late it had better be because you have no choice and not because you didn't feel like shopping until then. WTF.)

Most of the time that I encounter a person with a screaming child in a store (or other public place without the expectation of quiet) I feel sorry for the person with the screaming child. I only blame that person when it's a venue about which he ought to know better. Movie, fine dining, church, etc.

* * *

I had several plans for today--going to visit my aunt in the hospital chief among them--but instead I ended up sleeping a lot. I got two messages from two coworkers today asking me if I could work 9:45 to time indeterminate; I got these messages at 9:10 AM and there was just no f-ing way in hell, so I demurred.

And then I proceeded to sleep.

Mrs. Fungus and I went to bed last night around 2-ish, as is typical, and I slept readily...but the way this week has been I needed more, and I turned out to need some eight hours of "more". I had a PBJ at 9 AM, after sending texts to coworkers, and when I got up around 5:30-ish I had the barest faint trace of a headache. Mrs. Fungus came in to see if I was feeling all right, because I'd slept for so long. Normally I'd have a headache after sleeping so much, because of the chronic hypoglycemia, but I felt fine.

I needed that sleep. All of it. the errands and things that I left undone today will have to be accomplished at a later time, and that's all there is to it.

But I proceeded to get up and do the dishes--which have remained undone long enough that we were out of clean forks, butter knives, plates, and bowls--and once this post is done I'm going to go make dinner. Whee!

It's kind of a shame, because it was pretty warm today. But that's all right; spring is on its way.

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